Category Archives: Toddlers

Soccer and toddlers

So many things to tell, it’s hard to know where to begin.

To start, I got to see the baby this week. You know, the one in my tummy? That’s HUGE according to Vincent? Yes, that little baby.

Since I am the ripe and severe old age of 35 and am now termed ‘high risk’, there’s all sorts of fun things for me to do at the hospital testing-wise. This past week I had the Nuchal Translucency test, which is a screening for Down’s syndrome. This is pretty standard testing and so I might be on the slight dramatic edge with my ‘old age’ and ‘high risk’ comments. Just ignore me, you know it’s part of the territory (and if you didn’t, consider yourself informed).

I can attest to the fact that there is ONLY ONE BABY IN THERE. That’s for you cheeky few that keep mentioning twins. However, even at this young an age, Baby M is already a handful… Refusing to cooperate with the ultra-sound tech, Baby M twisted and turned and flip-flopped so much that afterwards the physician came in and had a quick chat with me. “Things look fine, from what we can see of them…” is not the most inspiring statement to hear from a doctor. Additional blood work was required to finalize the screen.

“Typical”, I muttered, rubbing my enormous(ly small) belly, “Still in utero and causing problems already. Clear indicators that you are a ‘Melvin’.

So that was Monday. And from there, the week took a bit of a dive. Despite being in 2nd trimester, my body decided to have a flashback to when I was feeling like toilet bowl before and basically feel like shit again. Headaches, nausea etc etc etc… I won’t bore you with the details.

On the bright side, Vince started soccer this past week. There had been a bit of a lead up to this blessed event. Some conspiracy between a friend and I to have our boys on the same team. Much discussion of playing with Vince’s little friend. Much kicking of soccer balls in the park. We bought special soccer shorts and socks. And Vince was just thrilled with all of this…

He kicked the ball endlessly all summer. He stated repeatedly ” I play soccer with Nathan”. He loved the shorts and socks with shin guards. And as we approached the field he started hanging back. And then resisting. And then crying “I don’t want to go. I DON”T WANT TO!!”

The coaches were very patient and one of them pretty much carried him around the whole practice while Vince ignored his friend’s requests for high-fives and pretty much ignored everything everyone said to him at all. I was honestly wondering if this was a good plan, figuring it didn’t even matter since we’d just stick with it for the season when, as we were leaving, he announced “Mummy!!! I had fun!!!!!!”

Oh gosh, you did??! You could have fooled me! But good. Next practice is Wednesday and the first game is Saturday. I am pretty sure that next Saturday with be an awesome, awesome disorganized mess. And I am pretty excited about it.

Ok, I think that covers it…

xoxo a.m.

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Filed under family, holy mother, parenting, patience, soccer, Toddlers

Smartass

"Mother, I would rather be playing Angry Birds".

So Vince has turned into a smartassed hellion…

You know, not suddenly, it’s been a gradual process since he hit 3 in June. But it’s here. It’s like the precursor to 13, and by that I mean ‘three’. It’s the toddler equivalent of the early teen stages.

Right now, everything has a smart answer. And of course I realize that he has no idea what he is really saying, but lord have mercy it’s making me crazy…

Case in point:

“No, I can’t take a bath, I’m too good”. “No, you can’t do that, you’re too little”. (said to me, if you were wondering). “No, I can’t eat that, I’m too dirty”.

“Maybe later, when I’m clean”. “Maybe later, when you’re taller”. “Maybe later, when I’m older”.

And finally…. “You can’t say no to me! You can only say no to strangers!!!”

That is currently my favorite. Today brought us this lovely conversation, which is in the running to become number one…

*while practicing our kicks for the first season of soccer*

Mummy: “Vince, did you know that your Tita is a really good soccer player?”

Vince: “No, Tita plays music and I don’t want to listen to it…”

I had to hold in the smirk for this one, it was just so blatantly grumpy and pouty. I think we were trying to leave the park when this witticism was uttered.

There has been increased demands and increased dislikes on everything and regarding everything. And if he is refused, he starts crying for the parent that is not there.

Vince: “Mummy, can I play Angry Birds on your phone?”

Mummy: “No, not right now”.

Vince *sobbing*: “I want my Daddy…. MY DADDY!!!!!”

Mummy: *eye roll*

I think I could go on and on, but do you really want to hear it? Because, most likely, it’s going on in your house too and you are as sick of it as I am. I am sure it will just morph into something more ridiculous in a month or so and I’ll complain about it too….

You know, the usual.

xoxo a.m.

 

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Revenge pee

Things to Google:

Revenge Pee

And, of course, it is my son that leads me to Google things like this. The majority of knowledge I have gained from my son in the last 3 years is urine and feces related. Google is my best friend. It has helped me learn  lots of things, most of which are regarding how to remove odors and stains from various fabric-type materials.

For the last 3 weeks or so, a particular pattern has been developing. One which has, honestly, been rather hard to figure out. Periodically V will just pee. A sort of no-warning situation. Often times it’s as a result of a stressful situation, or a situation he just doesn’t approve of. Or, mostly, something he disapproves of.

Or we’d fight, he’d cry and then pee on the floor. Through his shorts. Or, I’d say no, he’d cry and then pee on the floor. Sometimes he’d just run off to a corner of the livingroom, pretend to play with his toys and then announce “Mummy. I peed. Right der.”

*sigh*

But finally I made the connection. Revenge pee. Dude.

Telling one of my friends about my theory, she thought “Did you see if there is anything online? Probably there is a Mum that has dealt with it already…”

Well, I did learn a whole bunch of interesting stuff about people who take revenge on other people by peeing on their stuff. Animals too. Not peeing on animals, I mean. Just animals that revenge pee. That’s what you get when you Google ‘revenge pee’.

When, however, you Google ‘Children pee’ you get all sorts of shizzle. Info that, frankly, I have no interest in really reading as I am living the dream and am pretty sure that all Mum’s are doing the same things that I am. There honestly is not that many actual options.

Comfort (if it was indeed an accident) or reassure.

Obviously clean up is a MAJOR part of the operation.

As of yet, there is no punishment. It is so a total ‘f-you Mummy, let me have my own way!!’ that I pretty much cannot have any real reaction. Maybe an eyebrow raise. Oh, and a Mummy-face. One that I am still perfecting as it has a 50-50 response rate.

Today was a good day though. No revenge peeing. Plus V actively asking to use the potty. AND he pooped. TWICE. ON the potty.

Despite my total exhaustion and low levels of everything (Family health issues that I will not be discussing, except to say that there are some. They make me sad. And I am trying very hard to be adult about them), V filled that potty the m-f-ing up.

Which, I admit, in hind-sight type-wise sounds a little gross, but for real. We were super high-fiving each other and I did not have to clean up any poo from any non-toilet surface today.

Now I have totally lost my train of thought. Pretty sure it’s about pee. Probably poo too. It is my life, after all.

Anyways, any tips on surviving revenge peeing?

xoxo a.m.

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Filed under accident, epic, holy mother, Mad skills, parenting, pee, potty training, Revenge pee, Toddlers, Uncategorized

Some more about poop

Look Mum! No Poop!!

As if I don’t write enough about it. Geez. I am annoyed with myself. But, you know, you draw what you can from your own experiences and this is apparently what my life is consisting of lately.

Today was a particularly special day.

It started off with poo and ended with it as well. How blessed am I! I guess I am blessed with an almost 3 year old that can pee in the potty, but hasn’t quite mastered the poo. But has mastered the ‘holding it’ part of the movement and is rather good at it.

Blah. Anyways, thats how it started today. A nonchalant statement ‘Mummy? I poo in my underwears.” It was just a flat out statement. No emotion at all. It has become de rigeur. Routine. Normal.

And then this afternoon? We got home, walked the dog and then headed out into the courtyard to pull some weeds. We have had a serious weed eruption in the last 5 days. It’s insane. V and I pulled about 3 pounds of weeds this afternoon and in the middle of all of this vigrous pulling, V announced:

“Mummy! Dere’s poo! Right der!”

“Oh?” Uninterestedly… “There is?”

“Mummy!! Right der. Da poo. It’s icky. It’s on my sock”.

Ok, now that got my attention. What? And then? There it was. In the middle of the courtyard.

A turd. Just one. But don’t worry, there was a shower of them to follow.

I had to pick them all up individually. With my bare hands.

Ha! I kid. I keed. I used a papertowel.

And just when I thought I’d got them all, we started heading upstairs and then one more appeared. Renegade poop.

Vince shouted: “It’s a stinky icky poo!! Ewwwwwwww!” Which made me laugh as it rolled out of his pant-leg and on to the floor. He created and disowned in a microsecond.

Having nothing near by to pick it up with, I used V’s dirty sock to pick up the turd, carry it upstairs and deposit it in the toilet.

And that, probably, is the perfect example of the regular life of a normal Mummy. Sock poo pick-up. Vomit slasher-film type experience. Random wet pants.

Edward got home 15 minutes later to a clean Vince, pj-clad and pleasant. Neither of us mentioned anything about poo. To Daddy or each other. Not that, I think, its something we’d have a conversation about. But it was just not mentioned.

And then, I watched Beauty and the Beast and went to bed. Clearly a win of a day…

xoxo a.m.

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Inappropriate English

Just yesterday, Edward and I had one of ‘those’ conversations. One that, I think, he was pretty sure was a HUGE lecture. Probably one that lots and lots of wives have had with their husbands. Or not. I mean, I am married to Edward and he is a huge pain in my ass.

But they all are, aren’t they?

Anyways, I came back from the March for Babies in downtown Orlando to a happy home. Vince was full of appetite and life. Edward was cheerful and non-sleep-deprived. The dog was walked. Everyone was terribly happy.

“Vincent, would you like another cup of booger poo-poo milk?” asked Edward, oh so politely.

“NOOOO! I no like booger poo-poo milk”, Vince responded in a manner that indicated that he had been asked this question before.

And why would I even be a little surprised by this. Edward teaches him all sorts of ridiculous things, things which usually result in ‘looks’ from me. ‘Looks’ that I am pretty sure that Edward has learned to ignore.

Because he still teaches him ridiculous things.

So back to yesterday….

“Please, please. Can you teach him English?? Please?”, I asked, while most likely making a face, which means I was trying to not make a face. Which is another face entirely.

Response?

“I will teach him anything I want to!”, he proclaimed proud and firmly, “It’s my fatherly right.”

I rolled my eyes. Men. Whatever. This was just a pointless argument waiting to start. This was something I was going to leave alone for the time being.

Or, at least I thought I was going to…

Later that day, Vince and I hit up the grocery store. We were running low on Vincent snacks among other things. Needed some fruit, stuff for dinner, some milk.

We hit up the dairy section and I reached into the case to grab a couple of litres of milk.

“Mummy! Mummy Mummy Mummy! I no like booger poo-poo milk!”, Vince sing-songed while I was reaching.

“Booger Poo-poo! BOOGER! Poo! POO!!” he proclaimed, “BOOGER POO POO BOOGER BOOGER POO! POO! BOOGER! POO POO POO POO!”

And as we rolled through the aisles, he continued to shout this out at varying levels of loudness.

Finally I called Edward. “Thanks honey. Thanks”.

“What?!?!” he replied bewilderingly. But he knew. Oh, he knew. And then I made him listen. Listen as his son sang the most ridiculous song about boogers and poopoo at the top of his lungs while I pushed him around the grocery store.

That Bastard.

That Bastard who then apologized to me profusely. And then promised to be more conscientious of what he talked about with Vince. You honestly would think an English teacher would have better sense. Right?

Clearly I have married a crazy person.

xoxo a.m.

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Filed under amusing, annoying, awkward, bastards, boogers, boys, parenting, Toddlers, uncomfortable

Easter ‘grass’

Last night:

“M? Would you like to help me put some grass in bags?”, I asked super sweetly.

Response? Nothing. Just a look. And it wasn’t much of one at that. The look was followed by a snicker. ‘Grass in baggies’ apparently hit a funny bone. However, he clearly had other things on his card for the evenings entertainment.

I have been feeling the pressure of daycare lately. V has been sent home with so many goodie bags from various parents for various holidays and events that I finally have bit the bullet.

I too will be one of those “Of course! I totally have time to make a cute project for my child’s whole entire class!! mothers.  Except I am not really one of those mothers. At least, I am not yet.

So there I sat on the living-room floor, watching last weeks Lost episode and stuffing Easter grass into baggies shaped like baby chicks. I literally had 3 left to fill when Mr M saunters over from the couch and sits down next to me.

“Want some help?”, he asked, as he reached for a baby chickie bag and some grass.

I watched him as he literally picked up pieces of paper grass and inserted them individually into the baggies.It took him a solid minute to fill the bag. As he finished, he looked up at me with a grin and this look on his face.

This look kind of looked like I was supposed to thank him  repeatedly, for all of the help he had just given me.

Instead:

“What? You want a gold star or something?”

“Ummm…”

“Gee M, thanks for taking 5 minutes to fill one bag. So helpful.”

“You could just say thank you and not be so sarcasstic.”

“”Oh, I could??  Wow. Thanks. You helped SO much.”

“Ok, enough with the sarcasm.”

Men.

Anyways, off I went with V the next morning with all of our cute treats. It was a bit of a clingy morning for the Little Man. He didn’t want to go into the classroom. That’s what happens when I drop him off earlier and his regular teacher isn’t there. He only loves her. Oh, and me. But mostly her. She is cute and blonde and perky, I’d probably love her too if I was 2!

Well what a disappointment it was for me to find out that I was 2 bags short. I guess it would have been a good idea to count the student list before I launched into this cutesy project.

Fail!!

So back they went to the car and one frantic shopping trip to Target later, I finally got things straightened out. Tonight. Delivery for tomorrow.

And all I can think about is that I really hope I counted correctly…

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Grin

Having now weathered the worst of Daylight Savings in our house, M and I are taking a brain downtime break. It involves not talking and eating pie. Currently, this is working well for both of us.

Yay pie!!

In the days since the time change, every day seems to get a little better. Although bedtime is now combined with copious screaming. That’s when I curse the lighter evening sky and seriously consider blackout shades.

Boo venetian blinds!

Anyways, V lately is a little monster. He teeters between sweet and mischievous.

Teacher: “Vince learned to say ‘I love you’ today!! Vince….. ‘Love you!!”

Vince: “Wuv ooo”

Me: “Aw!!! Vince!!  I love you!!

Vince: “No.”

Can you say broken heart? I tried so hard to not let that show, but it actually hurt. Isn’t it funny how those little things sting?

And then last night, after wailing away upstairs for a while,  I gave in and climbed to the second floor and cracked the door. There he was, jumping in his crib, crying and sounding so forlorn.

Ok, I am a sucker. And V has some mad manipulative skills.

In I went and scooped that Little Man up, thinking that a snugs in the big bed would calm him down.

I carried him into our room and up we climbed and pulled the duvet over us. There we lay, face to face, and Vince had the hugest toothy grin. He was so pleased that he won, you could just tell.

Face to face, we grinned at each other.

Then I laughed.

Then he laughed.

And the more I laughed, the more he laughed. There we were, just grinning and gazing at each other, laughing away. It was just the most gorgeous 10 minutes of my life.

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Two

Did you know that M and I will have been married for 5 years next month? And also that V will be 2 years old in June.

To me, both of these things are rather exciting but, mostly, I am in shock.

Not so much about number 1 (that man is locked in forever)but definitely number 2. Number 2 is going to be 2! Although really he’s number 1. So number one is going to be 2… (my mind is giggling right now, it’s usually in the gutter anyways…).

Anyways, things have been changing over here in the last week or so. A sign of things to come? Of schedules to be disrupted?

It started off Sunday. My fault. Back from Spin class and feeling full of energy, I showered, shaved and felt alive. It was 3 pm and he was still sleeping. As far as I was concerned, that was too late to be sleeping and if he slept longer we would totally be f’d in the A.

So I woke him up. Sweetly, of course, and with many a gentle whisper and caress. Would you like to guess how all of my sweet efforts were greeted? With huge gulping, sobbing, wet, gasping cries. With big head-shakes at the mention of ‘Daddy’. And ever further head-shakes and wailing ‘Noooooo’ ‘s at the mention of Chewie the dog.

And the crying didn’t stop there. It continued for a good 15 minutes. And the day didn’t get any better from there. M just looked at me, gave me a total side-eye.

The rest of the day was just a huge, whiny, temper-tantrumy mess. So was the evening. So was dinner. And so was bath-time.

Bath-time was actually so bad it was kind of funny. Lowered into the lovely tub, all he did was wail from the time his feet touched the water. And then he tried to climb out. And then, when he couldn’t, he proceeded to wail and wail and wail like he was being scalded (which he wasn’t, for the record).

And bedtime that followed wasn’t much better. In fact, bedtime took place at 6:45, 8 pm, 10 pm, 11 pm and 1 am.

And Monday night wasn’t much better.

Tuesday was a slight improvement.

Happily Wednesday night was fine and so was Thursday.

So what the hell was all of that? In 3 months, he’ll be 2. Is it that? He’s getting quite opinionated. He will no longer ‘Moo’ on command. This disappoints me.

On the other had, he is developing a delicious sense of humour that is so infectious I just want to nibble on him. The giggles, the cheeky smiles, the mischievous looks and the endless “tic-el-tic-el-tic-el-tic-el” noises that he makes…

So if this is the terrible twos, I’ll take it.  Those grins make those weary nights worthwhile…

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Filed under awesomeness, bath-time, bed-time, epic, late night, parenting, Toddlers, Uncategorized

Hydrated

Superbowl is always a good time.

At half-time, my son put on quite the show. There was dancing, hand waving, some flailing and a few interesting moves involving ‘up and down’. A crowd of adults gathered around him, egging him on with some synchronized clapping and a few cheers.

After half-time, it was time for a quick bath at Gramma’s and a pj change. But for some reason, post half-time show, the bath was not a good idea. The getting naked part was though! V was so happy to strip down to his diaper. and also to just stare at the water filling the tub. And throw things into it. But actually get into the tub?

No. Way. In. Hell.

Every attempt I made to lower him into the water was met with his legs retracting and heading directly for my waist. ha! It was rather funny! I tried about 5 times and with each attempt, his shrieks got louder and louder until Grandparents ran into the bathroom with wide eyes, wondering what on earth was going on.

I settled for a bum-rinse. Good enough.

My Mum walked in while I was trying to diaper him while he was standing. Let’s just say I am not a pro. I am so not a pro that my Mother said “Hmmm, let’s just see how long that lasts”.

Well, it lasted pretty long. I was feeling a wee bit smug.

And then, around 1:30 am, he woke up crying. I think he was overtired from the party, the dancing and the nude streaking he did through the living-room.

I picked him up, snuggled him until he calmed down and cosied him up in his crib.

Walking back into our bedroom, I felt a little damp. I reached down to my stomach and pulled my damp tank top away from my skin. My fingers didn’t even understand what I was touching. I climbed into bed and snuggled up to the dog and the Big M.

My brain woke up about 2 minutes later and said “Jaime, that is urine.” I sat up in bed and pulled my top up to my nose and inhaled. Didn’t smell like pee. Didn’t smell like anything.

But I knew it was. And so, well, I got out of bed. Woke V back up. Changed him. Put him back to bed. Smelled my tank top again (Why?! Why!!!). Changed out of it. And then back to bed.

So. What is up with me smelling my pee-soaked top? And what is up with it smelling like nothing??

I must have an incredibly well-hydrated child.

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Filed under bath-time, parenting, streaking, SuperBowl, Toddlers, Uncategorized, urine, what the?

Toilet

About 4 or 5 months ago, V discovered the joys of unraveling toilet paper. As a total neat freak, I was not happy about his discovery, although I did enjoy the silly noises he made while he trashed my bathroom. Can’t get mad at that!

All of the toilet paper immediately moved to the bathroom counter, behind the sink and completely out of reach of small, determined fingers.

Bathrooms are just not a great place for children. Ours all have doorknobs that he can open. They aren’t ‘knobs’ per se, but more like handles. So he is in and out of the bathrooms all the time and is carefully monitored when he is near a drawer.

He mostly pulls things out and throws them either into the basket by the toilet or the bath tub. Or he just places them carefully on top of the toilet. Toe nail clippers, contact lenses, hair accessories. The other day I caught him with a tampon in his mouth. And it was one of those o.b. ones too, which I haven’t bought in years so lord only knows where he got it from.

This afternoon, while I wallowed in sickness upstairs, he emerged from the bathroom with a handful of condoms. He then proceeded to giggle hysterically and run all over the bedroom with them. And then cried when I took them away… (mental note to self, find new place for condoms and tampons).

Back to the TP… I guess he forgot about it, or we did or we all did because gradually it was re-hung and no-one paid it any mind. Until last night.

M was brushing his teeth in front of the TV in the bedroom and I was on the other side of the house putting some laundry away. V was running back and forth between us. At some point we lost track of him, maybe for about 5 seconds.

We both heard some very giggly giggling. It was extra giggly. It was coming from the bathroom.

I peeked around the corner to see it awash in a sea of white. Paper everywhere. V kicking his feet. Toilet paper everywhere. As those little fat fingers reached for what was left on the roll I did a run and dive with a slo-mo “Noooooooooo…”.

I handed Mr Giggle to Daddy.

As he was carried, giggling, out of the bathroom, I surveyed the room.

M’s voice drifted in from across the way “Don’t worry Hun! I’ll reroll it!”

Ha! Really? It seriously would have taken all night. I scooped it all up and dumped it in the sink. Strict instructions were issued to actually use it.

Oh how I love parenthood and my sink toilet-paper!

xoxo a.m.

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